Belly of the Beast Warren Thomas (e novels for free .txt) 📖

Raven quickly stripped out of her cold, wet clothes and donned the dry uniform and armor. Raven thanked Ashtar for her bounty, for she received a pair of woolen tights and a pair of leather trousers that fit over the woolens and cut the wind. Likewise, there was a woolen undershirt and leather over-shirt. The armor was an iron cuirass, polished to a mirror finish, and the straight sword was fairly good steel. The saber in the saddle sheath was of even finer craftsmanship. She also gained a belt knife and five more throwing daggers.

            Even more than the uniform, Raven admired her new mount. The mare was in excellent condition. She was of that breed of destriers bred for use guarding caravans. They were known as much for their endurance as for their fierceness in battle. The bay mare was no match for one of the big destriers that knights rode, but could move faster and for longer periods, and could subsist on rougher fare.

            With the priestly robes over her new uniform and armor, Raven mounted and rode toward the hilltop that the road disappeared over. From her higher position ahorse and on the hillside, she looked back over the encampment. There was still no sign of her friends. That was good, real good.

            Raven felt she had watched for her friends too long near the perimeter. She was afraid they had all already rallied, and left without her. But she would rather have to catch up than know one of them had fallen to their enemies.

Chapter 74

            Tane trudged through the quagmire toward his goal. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically. Twice, he had been called upon to help one group of mercenaries or another. Another time, a priest had him guarding a tent for three hours with another man. There were times he didn’t see how he’d ever get away and escape.

            And still he had not found the opportunity to steal a horse.

            Screams of rage and surprise startled him. Whirling around, he spotted some twenty mercenaries chasing another mercenary. Smoke rose up from the spot they had been.

            Shrugging, Tane started to turn back to continue when he spotted something amiss. A lone figure knelt in the snow and mud, facing away from him. A woman, though it was difficult to be sure from that distance. Red hair spilled down her back. Her hands were bound behind her back.

            Twice he turned back to continue on, but stopped. It couldn’t be Joelle. It couldn’t be. Her magic would’ve allowed her to make short work of mere mercenaries. But he had to know for sure.

            Heading her way, he spotted the priest and three other men. Except for the prisoner and the priest, all wore the black and gray of Dakar’s mercenaries. And it was the clothes that stopped him short, for now he knew it was Joelle kneeling there, head down.

            Gathering his courage, Tane marched over to Joelle. The priest looked up as he stopped. Tane swept the area with his eyes, noting the three wounded men and blood splattered about.

            “What happened, Your Grace?” Tane said, glad his voice sounded strong and confident.

            “The witch’s mate tried to free her,” the priest said, scowling toward the sounds of pursuit.

            “She’s one of the people we ambushed last night?” Tane said. When the priest nodded, giving him an odd look, Tane persisted with rising anger, “Have you informed anyone? I have just left the...commander. No one up there is aware of any prisoners. In fact, they are furious! And Dakar is even more so!”

            The priest and mercenaries blanched. Joelle looked up for the first time. Tane pretended to ignore her, praying she didn’t betray him accidentally. She looked at him a moment, then bowed her head again.

            “Don’t say anything, Your Grace,” Tane said, holding up his hand to forestall his protests of innocence. “The less I know, the better. But I’ll have to take this one right now. Maybe they’ll be so happy to receive a prisoner no one will think to question me about where and how I found her.”

            He gave the queasy looking priest a hard look.

            “I don’t think you would want any questions raised, Your Grace. Not considering the...uh...shall we say, emotional state of the higher ups.”

            Tane’s heart was hammering away, praying the priest fell prey to his own fear. It was obvious the man was terrified of upsetting those placed above him. The bits and pieces he had overheard that morning had shown him the precarious conditions that all the free-minded men and women of Dakar’s host lived under.

            “That might be best,” the priest said with a grimace. “It would seem that my messenger failed to reach Sister Arlene and her staff. I’ve been...uh...waiting for her grace to send someone down to take the prisoner away for questioning.”

            “A wise decision, Your Grace,” Tane said. “I might suggest you punish the incompetent messenger. Such dereliction can’t be tolerated.”

            “Oh, I will,” the priest said. Then turning to Joelle, he said, “You have nothing to worry about from her. The amulet suppresses magic. She can’t cast a spell to save her life as long as it remains around her neck.”

            “I understand,” Tane said. “I won’t remove anything off her person, just to be sure. You can’t trust witches.”

            Tane helped Joelle to stand after cutting the binding around her ankles, treating her a bit roughly to maintain his disguise. The others paid them little heed, turning their full attentions to the wounded. He led her away without a word.

            Once they were out of sight, Joelle said, “We have to help Armin.”

            “I know,” Tane said. He cut her wrists free and gave over his cloak. She huddled inside it gratefully a long moment. Tane asked, “Where would Armin go?”

            “He would circle around back to me,” she said. “Damn him! He’s going to get himself killed.” She reached up toward